Chapter 7- Memories
It took Harry and Hermione a bit to get Ron back to the tower, thankfully not running into anything that might delay their arrival. The common room was empty except for a few first years, who then scrambled away when Ron shouted in a very angry voice to get out of there.
After he was settled on the couch, Harry and Hermione stood over their friend, looking almost interrogating.
"Right, so what in bloody hell was that?" Harry asked, not bothering to tiptoe around the obvious. Ron's mouth dropped open as if to explain, but he shut it rather quickly, his face flushing.
"Don't bother avoiding it, Ron," Hermione scolded, tapping her foot. "Why on Earth did you react like that? Do you even know?"
"Of course I bloody know, but do you have to quiz me like you're McGonagall?" He threw himself into the couch, crossing his arms stubbornly. "You don't bug Harry like this!"
"Because you don't let me and don't curse!" Hermione screamed back before Harry could act offended, "It's not right to keep things from your friends, Ron! Especially when it's hurting you—how is it helping that you're hiding this from us?"
Harry put a hand on Hermione's arm, and she swerved to him looking furious. He sent her a look that said he was a bit put off with her, but that it wasn't the time. She released an annoyed sigh and slammed herself down into the chair nearest the fireplace.
"Ron, what is it? What…why did you get sick?" he asked slowly, sitting on the arm of the couch. His friend huffed slightly, looking like a child that didn't get his way, but when he realized that Harry and Hermione were not relenting, Ron threw his arms to his side, sighing.
"It's the scars, all right? There—I said it."
"What are they making you do?" Hermione inquired, her voice soft as if not to scare Ron away from the subject. She had been waiting since the first day of school to question him about his odd actions around things.
"They make me forget things that bother me or…or that mean something to me," Ron muttered, his ears flushing red. "They make me…they get me dizzy when I feel too strongly."
"How…how could they do that?" Harry wondered, turning towards Hermione. She shook her head slightly, gaping at Ron,
"They're intensifying your emotions, they—they're making you use your brain more than you normally do—"
"Hey," Ron growled, looking hurt.
"Shut it," she dismissed him. "Certain parts of your brain do certain things, and the brain that attacked you, it's…well, it's making those parts work at least double the amount they're supposed too…oh, I wish I was home, then I could search through my father's library, he's got to have something on brains…"
"I don't think a Muggle doctor is going to help Ron," Harry commented dryly, "plus, isn't your dad a dentist?"
"He's a doctor, of course he has interest in other fields of medicine!" Hermione retorted, glaring at Harry. Her gaze slowly turned back to Ron, softening, "When did you first notice this?"
Ron flushed and avoided their eyes; Harry was now on the other side of the questioning, it felt just as bad as being the one questioned.
"Harry's party," he grumbled. "I had been excited about him coming, and I just…forgot."
"And you had been planning it for weeks…" Hermione murmured, looking very intrigued. "Any other occurrences? Is it just when you're mad?"
At this, Ron's face turned a furious shade of red and he stiffened noticeably. Hermione shot Harry a glance, but he was too interested in Ron's reactions. Harry searched his mind for any other time that Ron seemed to forget things, and the morning after the wedding struck him,
"You were lying about Fred giving you drinks?" Harry asked suspiciously. Ron caught his eye and nodded slightly.
"What? Wait—when?" Hermione asked, not enjoying the fact that she didn't know something.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ron coughed loudly, doubling over. Hermione was over to him in a split second, and it was then that Harry realized that the brain was affecting Ron when he was extremely happy as well…was that the reason for Hermione's sly looks the morning before term began? Harry smiled, knowing that he was going to have to question Ron later, but would first have to save him from embarrassing himself in front of Hermione,
"Ron, what do they do? You can…feel them doing…things?" Harry asked after Ron had sat back up. His friend looked grateful for a split second, and then grimaced, gripping his arm.
"They start to throb, so then I know when I have to calm down or…stop."
"You didn't exactly stop with Nott, today," Hermione chided, her face pale. Ron's ears flamed,
"Oh yes I did. I wanted to kill him, but they started to hurt before I could."
"You knocked the breath out of him, if it helps," Harry added, noticing a slight smile on Ron's lips. "You're going to have to tell Madame Pomfrey about this; she had mentioned something about them being powerful."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," said Ron with a glum face, "Do you think she's going to make me do something stupid?"
"Maybe some therapy, to get over the affects," Hermione explained, grimacing at the idea of so much time with Madame Pomfrey. "She's going to smother you worse than your mum."
Ron groaned and Harry held in a smile. The relief on his friend's face relieved him slightly, too—stressed out people around him weren't going to help Harry deal with his inner demons any better than he had been, so it was good that Ron was going to seek help.
"See?" Hermione prodded, literally jabbing Ron in the ribs, "It's good to talk, to let out your secrets. Will you let me bother Harry from now on?"
Ron laughed and poked her back, nodding in approval. Harry, on the other hand, felt his stomach plummet, and he suddenly felt very cold.
"To let out your secrets…"
Harry hadn't told them about the prophecy and what he had heard. He had decided that it was good thing that he didn't want to worry them, but by the comforted expression of Ron, Harry wasn't sure if he had made the right decision. Could the burden of the prophecy on his shoulders be the cause of his dark cloud, his melancholy persona?
What would they do? Ron would probably sit in shock, and then try to make the best out of it, make a joke. Hermione would fret and ask a million questions he couldn't answer, and then shoot off another million to her self, wondering why she hadn't figured it out earlier.
It was pointless to keep it to him self unless he wanted to suffer with the knowledge that only he and Dumbledore shared. Did he want to be the lone bearer; was he being greedy by wanting Ron and Hermione to share his grief?
"Harry?" Hermione called, snapping him out of the fog he had found himself in a lot these past few months, "I won't really drive you crazy, if that's what you're wondering…"
"Er…no, sorry. I was just…" He frowned, looking down at his hands. Ron and Hermione turned to him, both looking concerned.
"Got a deep dark secret, Harry?" Ron said with a half-smile. Harry looked up, biting his tongue and taking in a silent breath. Ron and Hermione's smiles faded as they noticed his serious expression.
"Actually…" Harry said softly, looking back up at them, "I do."
He told them about watching Sirius fall through the veil, and how he had gone after Bellatrix Lestrange. He told them about his attempt to use the Cruciatus Curse, his failure at it, and then the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort. He told them about the meeting with Dumbledore, how angry he had been and how he had thrown things around the office, not caring if they shattered into thousands of pieces. He told them about the prophecy, how it could've been Neville, he told the entire thing with all the details he could must.
And they didn't say a word. Maybe Harry had been speaking too quickly and urgently, but neither of them made a sound to interrupt him, or a movement to knock him off of his course. Ron's face had paled greatly at each new revelation, and Hermione had hidden her mouth behind her hands, hiding her reactions. Harry was grateful for the silence, for the undivided attention and for the heavy weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying on his shoulders.
When his entire story had been related, Harry looked at his two best friends with a slight sense of worry—they had been polite enough not to interrupt him, but were they going to stay calm after it was all said an done? He had just told them an enormous amount of information that he had been withholding for a very long time…would they be offended that he hadn't bothered to tell them?
"Bloody hell," Ron murmured, combing a hand through his hair. "Oh hell."
"Harry…" Hermione started, but she choked and had to stop, her eyes wide and glazed. Harry smirked, clasping his hands together. They were more shocked than angry, it seemed.
"Is this why you barely responded to our letters?" Ron asked slowly, covering his eyes with his hands. "Those short, three sentence answers?"
Harry shrugged, removing his glasses to press his hand into his eyes.
"Well…I guess that's part of it, I just never really felt like doing it…"
"Thanks," Ron snorted, remaining hidden behind his hands. Harry's stomach lurched at how his friend had taken the comment, but what he had said was true. He didn't respond because it was Ron and Hermione, he simply didn't want to no matter how much they bugged him.
"You could've told us earlier, Harry," Hermione whispered, looking ashen. "I mean…we already figured out that the prophecy had to do something with why Voldemort was after you."
"I didn't…I don't know why I didn't tell you," he admitted, feeling slightly ashamed. "It's…it's big, and…"
"And you didn't think that your best friends would want to help you through it," Ron growled, pulling his hand away from his eyes. He looked seriously hurt at the fact of being kept in the dark for so long, but instead of feeling guilty, Harry felt a sudden anger rise up inside of him.
"How do you think I felt, Ron?" he shouted, gripping the couch. "No one told me anything last year! I was left in the dark all because of a bloody prophecy, because I had 'enough responsibility to be going on with.' I felt stupid and still do, Ron, I feel bloody BAD about it!"
"We could've helped!" Ron argued back, "We've been right along with you this entire time! Since that first train ride to Hogwarts! You've never had to do anything alone! Harry, we've always been there! And for you to hide something of that importance from us, something that pretty much set the rest of your life, it's like…to hell with you, Ron and Hermione!"
"Ron," Hermione scolded, putting a hand on his arm. She turned to Harry, still looking worried, "It's just…Harry, you can't do this alone even if the prophecy says what it says. You need us."
"I have to kill him, Hermione," Harry countered, "I have to defeat him for him to be gone forever!"
"Technically, yes," Hermione answered softly, obviously trying to remain the one calm person out of the trio, "but what about when we went after the Sorcerer's stone? Would you have gotten to Quirrel if Ron hadn't won us that chess match?"
"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron added, "It was Hermione who figured out it was a basilisk, people could've died, Ginny would've died…"
"This is different, this is my wand killing him," Harry exclaimed, his breathing ragged, "I have to become a murderer no matter what you two do to try and make it less difficult!"
"Shouldn't be that hard," Ron muttered, crossing his arms.
"But still," Hermione continued, ignoring Ron, "we can research spells, we can help you figure out what you need to do—if you faced him now there's…there's no way you'd defeat him and you know that Harry!"
"I don't care, Hermione!"
There, he had finally said it. He hadn't cared about anything since June, nothing made the dull ache in his heart go away, there was nothing he cared about enough to make him forget, to make him move on. Harry Potter was stuck in a rut of hopelessness, in a cave that stopped him from thinking things through and made him want to make everyone and everything go away to leave him alone forever.
"I don't want your help, I want you to just leave me alone and let me do this; this is something I have to do!" Harry stood up, throwing his arms up, "I don't need your worrying or support—it won't matter when I go one on one against Voldemort! It won't matter that I've had years of training here at Hogwarts; all that'll matter is that I, Harry Potter, the boy-who-bloody-lived, takes down Voldemort. That's it. That's all that matters."
He looked down at his friends, who stared up at him with wide eyes full of disbelief. Hermione was on the brink of tears, but she kept eye contact with him because she was determined to change his mind. Ron's face was neutral, but his wavering eyes spilled the truth.
"Harry…" Hermione choked, swiping at her eyes. "Don't do this, please, don't be the hero."
A flash of anger that Harry had not felt so strongly since last year swelled up in his chest and he clenched his fists to try and stop his desired reaction,
"Don't start with that, Hermione," he warned, his face scarily hot. Ron noticed and sat up, looking defiant,
"She's right, Harry; you can't go off and be the Wizarding world's savior just because you think you have to." Ron took a deep breath, "If you hadn't just gone off last year…you could've been Sirius' savior."
Harry's blood literally ran cold, and he felt his heart stop for a brief moment as he digested the words of his best friend. Ron looked ready to defend himself at any moment, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry was glad that he was: he was ready to curse him until he was purple, with the anger that had risen.
"How dare you use that against me!" he said stiffly, a cold shiver rushing through the body.
"He's not," Hermione interrupted, but she bit her lip, "but…he's right, Harry. I would think the loss of your Godfather would make you understand that you need to work with us and listen to us to be successful."
"So you admit it then," Harry said angrily, growing furious at the tears in his eyes, "It's my fault that Sirius is dead."
"No!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed together, but since Hermione was the sensible one she continued, "Of course it's not your fault, but if you had stopped and figured out a plan—if you had just informed a Professor or someone…"
"Sirius could still be alive," Harry finished for her, hoping they didn't notice the slight strain of his voice. Hermione nodded slightly and Ron remained still. "Well, you two wouldn't have gotten hurt, but I would never have found out about the prophecy so I'd still be in the dark about the rest of my life."
Ron frowned, covering his face with his hands,
"Why does everything end up doing something?" he groaned. Harry, still annoyed at him, clenched and unclenched his fists. Hermione stood then, taking tentative steps towards Harry. When he didn't flinch or back away, she put her hands on his shoulders, looking deathly serious.
"Harry," she began, her voice quavering, "I don't care how much you deny it, or don't want to believe it, but we're always going to help you, no matter how hard you push us away. Last year we were allowing you to get some time to yourself but now…now that we know about the prophecy, Harry, we're not going to let you do that."
"Yeah, we're going to be neck deep in your business," Ron joked, though his eyes were serious. "We're not exactly scared of you, anymore."
Harry didn't know whether he should take that as an insult, but he didn't bother trying to figure it out. He understood what they meant, but he wasn't ready to just hug and forgive them for bringing up memories he wished he had never experienced. He didn't like their method of getting him to understand, even if it worked.
"I'm…I'm going to take a walk," he said softly, shrugging Hermione's hands off his shoulders. He started towards the portrait hole, swiping up his bag from the floor.
"You're going to think about what we said?" Hermione called.
Harry nodded slightly and waved over his shoulder, not mad, but definitely not pleased. He needed to get out of the common room before he exploded with all the thoughts that were racing through his head, and he knew he'd regret the things he wanted to do if he did them.
He exited the portrait, not knowing where he was headed.
Harry didn't know how he got there, or why he had decided to go there, but the lake with the giant squid was where he ended up. It was a bit chilly seeing that it was almost November, so there were no other students on the ground, except for the occasional couple that was strolling hand in hand towards some secret spot.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and scrunched his shoulders high so he could try to keep his cheeks warm for a little bit. Harry wondered why he had gone outside without his bigger cloak, but he supposed his mind wasn't exactly worrying about how warm he was.
Ron and Hermione had hit hard with their comments, with their attempts at getting him to realize that he might need help. Harry knew he did, he knew that he wouldn't be able to find any useful charms without Hermione's help, or that he couldn't keep his workload and Quidditch stable without Ron helping alongside him. It was obvious and he knew it, but he couldn't accept it and for now he wouldn't until they forced him to.
Harry knew he was being stubborn and he knew that Ron or Hermione would call him on it now that they 'weren't scared of him.' What was that supposed to mean, anyway? Were they really worried that he was going to hit them, or something? He had never forcefully done anything to them, except for that time when he threw something directly at Ron's head…
He kicked a stone and watched as it skipped across the lake a couple of times before it sunk to the bottom. Harry looked at his surroundings and he realized that he had walked pretty far from the school, though still close enough that he wouldn't get in trouble for wandering off. There was no one in sight; no birds or guard trolls could be seen. He was alone and he was grateful.
Harry bent down and scooped up a rock, letting it slip through his fingers as if it was a Snitch trying to escape. He'd only let it if he could. He gripped it tightly and looked out over the lake, noticing the sparkles the sun and water created. It was pretty, but he didn't pay it any extra mind.
With all the strength he could muster, Harry hurled the stone towards the lake, watching as it fell in an arc and then dropped soundlessly into the water with a small splash.
"That was for Ron and Hermione, the prats," he muttered, knowing it wasn't true. Harry dug his foot into the sand and dug up another rock, this one a big bigger, but rougher.
"This one's for Snape and how he's constantly pissing me off," Harry growled, throwing this rock further and with more force. He found another one, "And this is for Voldemort for ruining my life and because he's such a bloody wanker."
He continued to search for rocks suitable for throwing, and he put them in a pile before he began to throw them again.
"This is for Malfoy who's a git and will always be a git." This rock soared and bounced a few times before it sunk. "This is for Dean for making Ginny cry and breaking her heart! This is for Umbridge, the wench who stopped me from playing Quidditch! This is for Dumbledore, who thought he knew what was best for me, who didn't give me the Prefect badge and left me all alone last year when I needed him the most…"
Harry's breathing rate was fast and heavy. His pile had dwindled considerably, but there were still a few left,
"This is for my stupid eyes that won't stop tearing," he choked, pausing for a moment before he threw the rock. "This-this is for my voice that won't stop cracking…" Harry plopped to the ground and picked up his last rock, tossing it from hand to hand as he revved up his energy to throw it,
"And this…this is for Sirius," he lost his voice and he had to bow his head before he continued with his teeth clenched, "this is for Sirius because he left me, because he died and left me alone."
Harry snatched off his glasses and pushed his fists into his eyes, the rock clenched tightly in his fingers.
"For Sirius because he had to be stupid and go af-after me, because he couldn't just listen."
He sucked in a deep breath, pulling his hands away from his eyes and trembling because of the breeze that had gone by and something more. Harry pulled his arm back and threw the rock and watched as it plunked into the lake, a soft 'plop' being heard.
"It's not fair," he murmured, picking up some sand and tossing it into the water. "It's not fair."
Harry grabbed at his hair and unceremoniously scrambled to his feet. He let go of his hair and kicked the sand and gravel, his arms flailing, "It's not FAIR! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" he screamed to no one.
He kicked the large rock near by, not caring that his toe now throbbed, "I loved you, you were my family and I needed you!" he cried, not caring about the tears that slipped out of his eyes. "How dare you do this to me! How-how…it's not fair…it's not fair how much it hurts to miss you…"
His lips were quivering as he fell to the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest. Harry ran his fingers through his hair nervously; never have reacting so violently before. He had never cried so openly before, either, and his actions were scaring him much more than Voldemort could ever.
The water of the lake splashed at his feet, and Harry turned to look at his black bag with tear-filled eyes. His hand reached for the strap and he pulled it towards him, with the other hand he was trying to furiously wipe away the tears. He rummaged through the bag before he found the secret pocket Hermione had installed for him, and with a shaky breath, he opened it, pulling out the small mirror he had hidden there.
Taking a moment to try and regain some composure, and though he was still shaking with silent tears, Harry said,
"R-Remus Lupin."
The mirror fogged up and it a few more seconds than normal before Lupin answered, visibly disturbed.
"Harry? Harry—what's wrong? Why…" Harry shook his head, his teeth chattering and his hair stuck to his forehead,
"P-Professor…is this an okay time to talk?"
